


Special Collections

by hannah_baker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All Human AU, College AU, Future Fic, Library AU, M/M, Spring break wooooo!, The Hales own a wolf reserve, bottom!Derek, living Hales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker/pseuds/hannah_baker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a senior in college working on his thesis. Derek Hale is the grumpy (though inhumanely attractive) special collections librarian. All they needed was a common interest to spark a friendship that becomes more than either of the bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Collections

As a senior and a student supervisor of the circulation desk at the library, Stiles felt pretty adept at searching for what he needed. He had good relationships with most of the reference librarians (like Mike, who despite his need to always be right was kind of always right, and Bill who not only consistently always wore his sandals with socks, but also had a passion for the history of physical books and the written word that was inspiring). But his work friendships came from his sparkling personality, not his research needs. Stiles was a pretty badass researcher all on his own, if he did say so himself.   
  
His job came with some pretty sweet perks, like first dibs on new books and extended check out times. He got bumped to first in line if he ever did need research help, and the woman who ran the interlibrary loan program thought he looked a bit like her son, so Stiles never had an issue getting books the UC Davis library didn’t have.   
  
What didn’t come with his position was unlimited access to the archive and the special collections room, which he needed for his thesis. He’d found at least a couple special collections books in their system that he thought would at least be worth a look - but for that he still had to make an appointment with the one librarian who he still hadn’t managed to convince of his awesomeness.   
  
“Mr. Stilinski,” Derek greeted, as he walked past him toward the locked door of the special collections room in the basement of the library, turning the key and walking into the dark room without much more of a greeting. Stiles was used to this - being generally ignored by Derek Hale.   
  
Derek was basically there to supervise the books as Stiles looked through them. Stiles was a little offended that he wasn't trusted to do this much on his own, but no one was. The room was slightly dark even with the lights on, and it was large, with higher ceilings than Stiles would have expected, the air different than the rest of the library because of the humidity control.   
  
“I’ve already gone through and chosen a few books for you on top of the ones you highlighted in your email,” Derek said, stiff and unfeeling, pointing to a table with a book cart standing next to it. There must have been fifteen books on the cart. Stiles smiled. Even though he could tell Derek didn’t like him, he couldn’t stop the librarian inside of him. Ask for two books, get over a dozen.   
  
“This is incredible, thanks,” Stiles said, dropping his bag to the table and pulling out his laptop.   
  
“Wear these, and be gentle,” Derek said, handing him a thin pair of white cotton gloves and clapping Stiles a little harder than necessary on the shoulder.   
  
“Yes sir!” Stiles chirped with a salute, taking the gloves from Derek and dutifully putting them on before watching Derek disappear into his office. It was windowed and large, and Stiles could see his student worker sitting at a table making careful repairs to a book. _Isaac_ , Stiles thought. He knew everyone who worked in this library, but Isaac was especially quiet and not very social - probably why Derek hired him.   
  
Stiles shifted through the books - some very old, likely the primary sources his paper desperately needed. Others were newer, but still looked helpful. He was writing his thesis for his Anthropology major on regional werewolf stories, and what those stories reflected about their cultures and societies. Derek had pulled books mostly from Europe and the Americas, where bookmaking technologies were available, and Stiles took a moment to appreciate the old books, the way they smelled, the heft and craft of them, before opening up his notes document and getting to work.   
  
Three hours later Stiles heard the closing announcement - the library closed at seven on Saturdays because it was pointless for the campus library to be open on a Saturday night - and started to pack up his things. Isaac waved at Derek as he left, and shut the door behind him.   
  
“You can stay if you want,” Derek said, his voice raised only a little to carry from his office to the table Stiles was at. He stood up and walked out to the main study area, and perched on the desk next to Stiles. “I’m here for another two hours at least working on a few acquisitions for the history department, you can stay until I leave.”   
  
Derek’s face was still hard, unemotive, tough to read. Stiles smiled. “That actually sounds really helpful,” he said, pulling his laptop back out of his bag and opening it back up. “Thanks,” he said, turning back to Derek - but the space he’d taken up was empty now, the top of his head from where he was sitting at his desk just visible through the window of his office.   
  
-  
  
He couldn’t take the books he needed out of the SC room, so he started making frequent appointments. There was one book in particular that Stiles had found incredibly useful - a collection of northwestern american indian mythology that was currently fascinating Stiles, both on the topic of his paper and off. The books were too delicate for the copy machine, so Stiles had to utilize them face-to-face. Derek Hale’s heavy gaze settled over him as he saddled up to his regular table in the generally empty sub-library and buried his face back into his work.   
  
The room was kept fairly dark to avoid long-term damage to the books so it was a little creepy. And Derek was a constant and looming presence. But he was helpful. Oh, and gorgeous. He had that two-day stubble thing going on that Stiles was particularly into, and he found himself spending large portions of his time in the basement trying to supress his fantasies of how Derek’s stubble would feel scratching over the skin of his chest and neck.   
  
Many deep breaths were taken in the moment, and many cold showers followed.   
  
-  
  
Three weeks after his first appointment with Derek, Stiles found a piece of paper clipped to his punch card in the backroom when he got to work. _Found a few new books that might be of interest. -Derek_. Stiles punched in for his shift and tucked the note into the copy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide that he was holding before sending another worker to shelve a cart of books so he could email Derek for an appointment in private.   
  
He kept eyeing the note that was sticking out the top of his book. He tried not to be motivated to hit special collections because Derek Hale was hot. Unfortunately, he wasn’t just hot - he was intelligent, which Stiles found out at some point during his sophomore year when he’d been struggling with his math homework and Derek had appeared behind him at the desk after grabbing some hot water for tea, quickly pointing out the exact mistake that Stiles had made that was causing him difficulty, before promptly leaving.   
  
Hot and smart. Stiles had a pretty serious boner for the librarian, but he was good at crushes at this point. He was used to not having his feelings returned. He’d crushed on Lydia Martin for ten years before she even noticed him, and it worked out fine for him. ‘Fine’ obviously not meaning that they ended up together. ‘Fine’ just meaning he survived it. He’d survive this one too.   
  
His computer chirped as a gchat message popped up.  
  
[Derek.Hale@UCDavis.edu](mailto:Derek.Hale@UCDavis.edu): You’re on shift now, right?   
  
[G.J.Stilinski@UCDavis.edu](mailto:G.J.Stilinski@UCDavis.edu): Yeah, I get off at five.   
  
[Derek.Hale@UCDavis.edu](mailto:Derek.Hale@UCDavis.edu): I’ll be here until seven.   
  
[G.J.Stilinski@UCDavis.edu](mailto:G.J.Stilinski@UCDavis.edu): I’ll be down in a few hours!   
  
Stiles smiled to himself and made an attempt to finish his essay for his literature class while he waited for his shift to time out. He checked out a few books and a lot of library-use-only laptops and helped a few people find what they were looking for in the stacks. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Stiles usually grabbed dinner with his roommate Scott after his shift at the taco place down the street from their apartment, but he sent him a cancellation text. It was partly because the books that he was reading were actually incredibly helpful - he had no idea that Davis had these kinds of resources - and partly because of Derek.   
  
Derek Hale had never been explicitly mean to him over the years at the library - Stiles just thought that he must just have a tendency to be quiet and brooding. At least that was what he was hoping for.   
  
When he finally clocked out, he headed straight for the basement, despite the grumbling in his stomach. It was dinner time and Stiles’ stomach was not about to let him forget.   
  
Stiles knocked on the door to the special collections room, and Derek unlocked it from the inside and opened it for him, closing it behind both of them and locking it again. It was a little creepy, but he knew it was both to protect the books and also so drunk kids didn’t try to have secret library sex in there, which had actually happened on Stiles’ shift last semester. He understood.   
  
“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” Derek said, as Stiles headed over to the same table he’d been at on Saturday.   
  
“Um, nope, not at all,” Stiles said, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Why?”   
  
“I figured this appointment time wasn’t going to be very convenient so I ordered some chinese food,” he said, heading into his office. Stiles trailed after him. Isaac wasn’t there. Instead, a table had been cleared off and had food sitting on it.   
  
“You’re feeding me?” Stiles asked, confused.   
  
“I’m feeding you - but I’m also not going to lie. I want to pump you for information, because you’d be surprised at how many students come in here with the most inane research topics ever. Kids with no passion. Kids who I watch dick around on their facebooks while they’re here instead of actually doing any work. So, Stiles Stilinski,” he said, taking a fork and a carton of chicken fried rice and leaning back in his chair, “tell me about your thesis.”   
  
“Uhh,” Stiles started, picking up a plastic fork from the table and spinning it in his fingers. “I’m an anthro major, my project is on-”  
  
“I know what your project is on, you told me in your email weeks ago. Tell me about why you care.” Derek was intense, but he wasn’t being mean or condescending. He was treating Stiles like an equal, which Stiles wasn’t used to. He wasn’t getting a ‘justify your every thought’ vibe from Derek like he did from his professors. He wasn’t being challenged. He was being intellectually engaged.   
  
“When I was little my mom used to tell me stories,” Stiles started, and he was surprised at how calm he felt telling Derek this. Only his dad and Scott actually understood the root of his interest. He was used to bulshitting when asked this question regularly. “She’d tell me stories about monsters and dragons and wolves - cautionary tales. And I remember from a young age understanding both that these stories weren’t true - there wasn’t a dragon in the oven - but also that she was telling me the truth in her lies. There may not be a dragon in the oven, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t get burned.   
  
“I grew up in a pretty wooded area. Beacon Hills was fairly suburban, but we lived on the edge of a huge natural area, the town limits. And the animal population wasn’t always very friendly. She’d tell me werewolf stories to keep me out of the woods because we had a lot of people who’d hunt in the woods even though it was illegal back there.   
  
“So my childhood started with her telling me these stories, and evolved into her getting me to tell her stories, create our family mythology, extrapolating these ideas into inside jokes, and the bonds that kept my family close.” Stiles took a breath and realized that he was sitting perfectly still. He looked up and Derek had his carton of food and his fork poised for eating, but he was still too.   
  
“And so you’re doing this research to continue that conversation with your mother?” Derek asked, the question shooting straight to Stiles’ heart. Stiles nodded. That was exactly it, and no one had ever understood that before.   
  
“My mom died when I was thirteen,” Stiles said. “And I’m not letting go of what she taught me,” he said. Stiles saw emotion in Derek’s eyes for the first time then, though he stayed quiet.   
  
“So at some point, I discovered that everyone had a werewolf - or wereanimal - story. All across the globe, numerous different cultures and societies. I’m not really sure when it became my thing exclusively - probably when my dad bought me my dog. But yeah. Wolves. I just liked the way they connected everyone.” Stiles trailed off.   
  
“What kind of dog do you have?” Derek asked, finally eating. Stiles took his cue and took a few bites himself.   
  
“I’ve got an australian shephard. She’s nine. Her name is Wolfsbane but I just call her Bane,” he said, affection for her clear on his face. He wasn’t even tasting the food that he was eating, his brain focused on the surprise that was Derek Hale being a nice fucking guy.   
  
Derek nodded and stood up, nudging Stiles gently on the shoulder with his elbow as he finished up his food. “Finish eating before you touch the books, alright?” he said, sitting back down at his desk. And whatever moment they’d been having was gone. Stiled inhaled his meal, and wiped his hands thoroughly before heading back over to his table. The same books that he’d been working on were still there along with the new ones that Derek had promised, and he continued to sift through them, combing sections meticulously, typing up quotes, taking photos of whatever kind of copyright information he could get for his works cited he’d scrape together later.   
  
At some point he began writing an email to his dad about his mom, but then stopped and deleted it before he started crying in the basement of the library, in a locked room, while being watched by a sometimes crotchety librarian. He took a breath.  
  
Stiles liked how quiet it was down there. Even in the most coveted corners of the library there was noise. Pieces of conversation, the loud zipper on someone’s backpack, the thumping footsteps of someone hurrying down the stairs. But the special collections room was virtually soundless, which was perfect for Stiles’ ADHD-riddled brain. Here his focus thrived when he had nothing to filter out before getting to what his brain wanted to be concerned with.   
  
“Hey, I’m gonna hit the road pretty soon,” Derek said from his office, and Stiles checked the time on his phone. It was 7:45 already.   
  
“Shit, I’m sorry, have you been waiting for me to realize that I’m overstepping the appointment time, because I’m terrible with time management, and I’ve been so focused-”  
  
“I’ve noticed,” Derek said, with a chuckle. “I don’t like to kick students out when they’re actually engaging texts. Meaning to say, I kick people out pretty regularly.” Stiles laughed.   
  
“Yeah, I bet being down here where cell service is non-existant and the books aren’t the internet would be hell for some people. It’s been incredible for me though. The silence, the books. It even smells good down here. And I can’t believe that Davis actually has this kind of thing,” he said, holding up the book that he was working on, a book of south american lore from the turn of the century.  
  
“Davis doesn’t have very good resources for your topic actually,” Derek started, helping Stiles put the books he was using back on the cart. He tossed his white cotton gloves on top of them, and Derek rolled the cart back into his office. “Most of them are actually mine - or my family’s.”   
  
Stiles gaped. “What?” he said. “How?” Thoughts weren’t fully developing in his brain.   
  
“My parents own and run a wolf sanctuary - a big ranch. That’s where I grew up. Wolf everything twenty-four hours a day. My dad is the history nerd - one of the main reasons I am the way that I am I guess,” Derek said, pushing his glasses up his nose casually, in a way that made Stiles’ mouth go a little dry.   
  
“That is incredible,” Stiles said, zipping his backpack and slinging it onto his shoulder. “So you bought those books just for me?” he asked, and had Derek not just turned off all the lights in the stacks, leaving only the bank by the door on, Stiles would have seen the tips of his ears go pink.   
  
“It’s not very often someone chooses to research something that I’m actually interested in,” Derek said, his face set back into his clean slate. They walked out of the library together, and Stiles headed for the bus stop while Derek took a few steps toward the faculty/staff lot.   
  
“You need a ride?” he called over his shoulder to Stiles.   
  
“Huh? I can just take the bus, it’s fine,” Stiles said, not used to anyone being this nice to him honestly.   
  
“It’s no problem,” Derek said, and Stiles nodded, turning to follow Derek now. He was being offered favors from a hot guy who was smart and had academic and personal interest in the one thing that Stiles loved more than anything else in the world. Fuck the bus.   
  
Derek led him to a black, hot-looking car that was absolutely ridiculous. Nearly as ridiculous as the black leather jacket he always put on over his sweaters. He had some strange mix of bad boy and sexy librarian going on that Stiles didn’t fully understand, but wasn’t going to complain about.   
  
They talked more in the car. Stiles mainly couldn’t shut up about Bane, and Derek had grown up around dogs and wolves, so their conversation was easy. Easier than Stiles ever thought a conversation with Derek Hale would be.   
  
Stiles lived about three miles from campus, which wasn’t a tough busride, and was a pretty quick bike when he was feeling up to it. He had a car - an old baby blue Jeep CJ5 that was a remnant of his high school car budget, but the price of a parking permit on campus was too high for him to afford. The drive to his apartment was short, and when Derek pulled into the parking lot of his building, Stiles acted completely on impulse and invited him up.   
  
“Wanna meet Bane?” he asked, his enthusiasm impossible to mask. Derek nodded, pulling into a space and shutting his car off. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was breaking any boundaries set up between librarian and student, but Derek wasn’t in charge of Stiles’ grades or anything, so he couldn’t think of anything that could come and bite either of them in the ass, administration-wise.   
  
“She’s not very friendly to new people,” Stiles warned as he led Derek up the short hallways of his small apartment building. “She takes some warming up, generally, just so you don’t get offended when she doesn’t lick your face off like a normal dog. She was a rescue - her first owner was abusive, so she takes a little while to trust someone.”   
  
“I’ve actually spent a lot of time with abused animals,” Derek said. “People who get wolves and don’t understand that they’re not pets. They treat them so poorly that they end up afraid of their own shadows.”   
  
Scott was gone when they got there - he’d started seeing this girl, Allison, from one of his biology classes and probably really didn’t mind being cancelled on that night. Bane was at Stiles' feet immediately, trying incredibly hard to contain her excitement to see him. She was well trained, and greeted him at the door by sitting and trying not to wag her tail so much she fell over.   
  
“Hey, babygirl,” Stiles greeted, petting her head, scratching behind her ears, and cooing at her in a way he always forgot wasn’t incredibly normal. He kissed her nose and stood back up to turn to Derek, who was just barely inside the threshold of the apartment.   
  
“Hi, sweetheart,” Derek said, holding his hand out to her so she could smell him. She sniffed a cautious sniff - and then she was immediately on him, pressed close to his legs in a way that was a little impolite for how well behaved she usually was - though she didn’t jump. Derek’s hands were gentle on her coat, and her face was blissed-out and dopey in seconds.   
  
“I have no idea what happened to my dog,” Stiles said, flabbergasted. “Maybe someone stole her and replaced her with a friendly cuddlebug.” Bane was never ever this quick to warm up to someone. She even took a few minutes to reacclimate to Scott when he came home after work or class. And yet, here was Derek, bent down to be more on her level, her sweet face tucked into his neck in a way that she only ever did to Stiles.   
  
“Well I think she likes me,” Derek said, nuzzling Bane back, one of his large hands spread protectively on her back.   
  
“I have never seen anything like this before,” Stiles said. “Are you a dog whisperer or something?”   
  
“I grew up with wolves,” Derek said simply. “I understand.”   
  
“I guess so,” Stiles said. Derek stayed for a few minutes, petting Bane and chatting idly about his favorite wolf back home, Chief, who would sneak out of his kennel at night and into Derek’s room when he was in high school.   
  
Stiles felt completely and utterly fucked as he watched Derek walk down the hall of his apartment, down the stairs and back to his car. Bane whined at his feet, and he waited a few minutes for Derek to leave before he took her on a walk. This was bad. This was awful. He hadn’t been prepared for the way his heart was going to feel when he saw Bane tuck her face into Derek’s neck like that, when he’d seen the connection Bane had to another human. Because before Stiles thought he’d had a cute, but completely hopeless crush on an attractive dude. But this was no longer a crush. This was A Situation.   
  
  
-  
  
Studying with Derek in the basement of the library became both more frequent and more tortuous. When Isaac wasn’t there, he tended to take up shop at his desk in Derek’s office, slowly but surely getting used to the quiet way Derek got frustrated with other students who made appointments while Stiles was there, mistreating books or asking what Derek obviously thought were stupid questions. One kid brought in a bag of cheetos and started eating them over an illuminated book that he had to look through using tongs. Derek kicked him out immediately and fumed at his desk for a good hour after it. Stiles tried very hard to not find it incredibly cute.  
  
It became almost a given that if Stiles had some down time between classes, or time after work before his night class on Monday nights, he’d be in the basement with Derek, either working on his thesis or doing other homework. Derek didn’t seem to care that Stiles couldn’t possibly be doing this much thesis related research. He helped Stiles with his advanced calc every once in awhile. They even talked sometimes, when Derek’s eyes were so tired he couldn’t look at his computer screen any longer. While Derek seemed bothered by the presence of other students, he seemed to encourage Stiles’ presence in his office with him.   
  
“Stiles,” Derek said one evening before Stiles was off to his Monday night 19th Century Lit class. Stiles snapped out of the focus he had on constructing his works cited for his thesis so far.   
  
“Mmm?” he responded, getting his head back to the surface. His focus was deep and he needed a moment to reaccess the outside world. Derek gave him a moment - he seemed to understand that. He seemed to kind of be the same way.   
  
“What are you doing for spring break?” he asked, and Stiles could see the shyness behind his blank mask. He was getting better at reading him, though he was still very closely guarded.   
  
“I was just, uh, going to stick around here and work on my thesis, I guess. Scott is going to Allison’s house with her in LA, and my dad said that there was a murder case heating up back home so he probably wouldn’t get to hang out with me much if I came back. What’s up?”   
  
“Do you want to come see the wolves?” Derek’s gaze was intense like it always was, but there was something else there that Stiles couldn’t put his finger on.   
  
“Yes, oh my god yes that sounds amazing,” Stiles said, his excitement pouring out of him, limbs a little more out of control than normal. Then he sobered. “Shit, what about Bane?” he asked. He’d need someone to take care of her, and he didn’t have a whole lot of friends at Davis; he didn’t have any that weren't Scott - I.E. Bane approved. Derek smiled knowingly.   
  
“Bring her. I’m sure she’d love it. It’s amazing up there - a little cold still maybe, but lots of space to run,” Derek said, a little reverently. Home did weird things to people.   
  
“Alright. Count me in,” Stiles said, packing up his bag. He’d be a little late to lit now, but it was worth it. “When do we leave?”   
  
“Friday - when does your last class end?” Derek said, not doing a very good job of keeping the smile off his face. Stiles made an honest attempt at not melting at the way he looked when he wasn’t frowning.   
  
“Language and Sociocultural Anthro ends at noon,” Stiles said. “I have a library shift for a couple hours after, but I can probably get it covered.”   
  
“Great,” Derek said. “We’ll leave at noon then.”   
  
-  
  
The week passed excruciatingly slowly. Stiles’ classes were heaping on work before the beginning of break; his professors were luckily trying to schedule assignments so that their students actually got to rest over spring break. He almost didn’t see Derek at all, being forced instead to spend his time in study rooms on the third floor of the library with groups for Calc, and his group project for his sociology of sexuality class which sounded like fun was turning out to be the most work of all this semester.   
  
He and Derek exchanged texts though. The kind of meaningless _something reminded me of you_ messages that get passed back and forth when you hit the comfortable part of your friendship. Stiles couldn’t help his heartbeat when he felt his phone buzz, or saw that Derek was on gchat. Somehow Derek was significantly more distracting to him when they weren’t sitting next to each other in special collections.   
  
Finally on Friday Derek grabbed Stiles from campus and drove him quick to his apartment to grab his bags and Bane. Stiles had never really taken her anywhere on ‘vacation’ that wasn’t his childhood house (which was already more than outfitted for her) so he wasn’t sure what to bring, but Derek assured him that there was plenty of dog food. It made packing a lot easier.   
  
He brought a duffell and his school bag, which turned out to be nearly exactly what Derek had for himself in his trunk. Stiles was unsure of how Bane would like being in the backseat of Derek’s car for five hours while they drove to almost Washington, but once she got in, she made herself comfortable. She was pretty good in cars, and practically purred about an hour in when Derek’s hand slipped back between the seats to find the top of her head.   
  
“I still can’t believe how much she likes you,” Stiles said in near-wonder.   
  
“I don’t believe she’s not a people puppy,” Derek said, countering him.   
  
“You’ve never seen her with new people other than you. She either hides behind me in a best case scenario, or growls and barks,” Stiles loved Bane, but he was pretty used to the fact that she was what he referred to as his introverted pup. Derek just shook his head.   
  
The hours went quick, with them trading radio rights back and forth on Derek’s satellite radio, sometimes turning it off all the way just to talk. Derek told Stiles about his history undergrad, and his time in his library science program after he got his bachelor’s. He briefed Stiles a bit on his family, mentioning that most of his siblings ended up scattered over the country (Alan ended up in England after he met a British girl during a study abroad in Germany), but Laura, his secret favorite, was the only one who had stayed on the ranch, acting as their vet now that she’d been licensed.   
  
Stiles told him more about Scott. He briefly touched on their high school antics, and breezed over his short-lived lacrosse career. He told Derek about his dad, the most important person in his life, in detail that he told no one else. There was something about how normally quiet Derek was that made him easy to talk to. Derek didn’t chit-chat. He didn’t like smalltalk. When he talked he was saying something, and it made it easy for Stiles to return that courtesy.   
  
Bane was asleep in the back seat when Derek pulled around the bottom of a hill, rolled down his window and flashed an access card to a post. They drove through heavy gates, up through a spiraling, wooded hillside into the driveway of a gigantic house.   
  
“This is it,” Derek said, and Stiles had to consciously remember to keep his mouth closed. The house was very rustic looking, with exposed stone and rough lumber. It was craftsman-meets-modern, and completely devastating. Bane was making an attempt to exit the car before either Stiles or Derek got out of it, and Stiles quickly clipped her lead to her collar before hopping out. She wiggled beside him desperately wanting permission to smell everything. Stiles took her to some grass quick, and then they followed Derek inside.   
  
“Wow,” Stiles said, his grip tight on Bane as they walked into the foyer. It was two stories and made the rest of the house look even more absolutely massive than the exterior did. The decor was dark and cosy and leather, and before Stiles really knew what was going on, a woman called out to them from the balcony of the second floor.   
  
“Hey loser!” she shouted, “And loser’s friend. And dog.”   
  
“Laura,” Derek grumbled, looking annoyed - but Stiles knew his love for his sister and wasn't fooled by his face. Laura thundered down the stairs in ripped jeans and an old baseball shirt, her messy hair in a ponytail. She looked almost exactly how Stiles would have imagined Derek would look if he’d been born a girl.   
  
She launched herself on him, and he dropped his duffel, their hug a little awkward but adorable.  
  
“And who is this?” Laura asked, and Stiles opened his mouth to respond before Laura basically fell to her knees, her hands finding Bane’s thick coat. Bane was good for her, but didn’t have the affection she’d had for Derek upon their first meeting.   
  
“Her name is Bane,” Stiles offered up, and Laura looked up at him, clearly making her assessment.   
  
“She’s a pretty aussie,” Laura said, standing to shake his hand. “And you’re Stiles?” she asked, looking to Derek for confirmation.   
  
“He’s the student doing the research on werewolf stories,” Derek confirmed, a smile finally appearing on his face.   
  
“Oh you’re both here!” came another voice, a woman’s, appearing from what looked like the kitchen. She was in khaki work clothes that were in good shape but dirty, a glass of water in her hand. “I just got back in,” she explained, apologizing for her appearance. “You must be Stiles,” she said, pulling him into a tight hug before she even hugged her son. “I am so glad you’re here,” she said, and Stiles was a little confused by the affection. But Derek had said that both of his parents were interested in his research, so Stiles chalked it up to that.   
  
She led them into the basement where Derek’s room was. “I hope you’re fine sharing,” she said, giving Derek a meaningful look before throwing some clean towels for both of them on the edge of the bed. “The other rooms are all in some stage of being painted,” she said, kissed both Stiles and Derek on the cheek and left the room.   
  
Stiles looked over at Derek and raised an eyebrow at him.   
  
“It’s fine,” Derek said. “The basement is massive, and the couch is comfortable. You can take my bed,” he said. “I had no idea my mom was painting.” There was some pretty clear confusion in his voice, and Stiles had a hard time thinking that in a house this huge there wasn’t a single extra bedroom for him to sleep in.   
  
“Dinner’s on in an hour!” Laura called down to them, and Derek’s mouth turned up into a very small, but expressive smile.   
  
“Want to meet the wolves before dinner?” he asked, and Stiles didn’t even have to think before he answered.   
  
“Hell yes.”   
  
-  
  
It was a short hike from the ranch to a smaller building that was the office, and a barn. There was plenty of shelter in a large fenced in area, and when they approached the edge of the fence, the wolves started howling. One wolf rushed to the edge of the fenced area and started scraping at the ground, clearly excited to see Derek.   
  
“Chief?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. Stiles felt bad to leave Bane in the house with Laura, but he was glad in this moment. It was a little overwhelming, and he was thankful he didn’t have to worry about her reaction to all these wolves and wolf dogs right now.   
  
Derek let them into their pen, and Chief nuzzled up to Derek immediately. “So this is your Bane,” Stiles asked, holding his hand out to Chief. About point-six seconds later it was covered in dog slime. Stiles laughed to himself. Just like home.   
  
Derek took him around to meet some of the other wolves, who were very friendly and let Stiles pet them. Their fur was thick and heavy, and Stiles assumed also very warm.   
  
“Hey, we should head back,” Derek said, checking the time on his watch. Stiles nodded and zipped his hoodie up a little more, flicking the hood over his head. The sun was starting to go down and it was getting chilly out there. The short hike back down the hill wasn’t too bad, but Stiles lost his footing a few times, feeling a jolt of electricity when Derek’s hand found his lower back to steady him. It wasn’t unusual for Derek to touch him. He was a pretty touchy guy for having such impenetrable walls up. But having Derek’s hand on his lower back felt - he hated even thinking the word - intimate. _Shit shit shit_ , Stiles thought, trying to focus on getting back to dinner before he said or did something stupid.   
  
-  
  
  
Dinner with the Hales was interesting. Stiles hadn’t had a real family meal since he’d been a teenager. Dinner with his dad was the same anywhere - just the two of them. And with Scott and his mom back in high school, it was usually more of a in-front-of-the-couch routine. The Hales were so classic sitting around their dining room table that was massive in a way that asserted the importance of it to the people who owned it - Stiles ached for the first time in years for the kind of family that he always saw on TV.   
  
Derek’s dad Mike was quiet like Derek was, Laura had his sense of humor, and Derek’s mom, call-me-Julie, was immediately warm and inquisitive, but smart like Derek, sharp. Stiles liked Derek’s parents immediately, and warmed up to Laura’s sometimes abrasive remarks after she made her third Star Wars reference.   
  
They had venison lasagna made from a deer that Laura had killed, and Stiles was fascinated by the way she talked about her experience with nature and the earth and the energy that surrounded them all. He felt Derek’s knee knock his own in exasperation (it was clear that he’d heard about Laura’s connection to the earth before), but Stiles just shoved back, playful, comfortable somehow at this table with these people.   
  
After dinner the rest of Derek’s family peeled off, Laura into town to have what she called a “proper Friday night,” and Derek’s parents into their wing of the house. Stiles trailed Derek back downstairs and they ended up on the couch, Bane curled between the two of them, watching old episodes of The Office on Netflix.   
  
Stiles woke to the feeling of Derek carrying him to his own bed, Derek pulling the comforter over him, Bane jumping up on the bed to cuddle. He wanted to tell her to sleep on the floor because he wasn’t sure what the dogs-in-bed policy was. He wanted to at least take off his pants and brush his teeth. But he was so sleepy and and could barely think. He slung an arm over Bane and fell back to sleep.   
  
-  
  
Derek woke him up early - way earlier than Stiles would normally have on the first Saturday of spring break.   
  
“Why god,” Stiles muttered to himself as Derek, who was already showered and dressed at eight am, ushered him into the bathroom and threw a towel at him. Fifteen minutes later he emerged to Derek laying on the side of the bed Stiles didn’t sleep on cuddled with Bane.   
  
“Ha!” Stiles shouted, feeling as though he’d caught Derek at some kind of a game. “You clearly are tired too, let’s go back to bed we can pretend this never happened.”   
  
“I’m not sleepy,” Derek said, his voice solid evidence. “I took Bane out already,” he said, sitting up, and handing Stiles the cup of coffee that had been sitting on the side table - black like he liked it. “Come on, princess, you can handle it,” Derek teased, and Stiles sighed and sipped his coffee.   
  
At some point in the last two months of...whatever was going on - friendship? Stiles and Derek had become comfortable enough with each other to joke around. Stiles didn’t have a lot of friends outside of Scott. Scott had a lot more of a social life than Stiles did, and Stiles tagged along to parties at the lacrosse house or whatever. But Stiles saw a bit more of himself in Derek than he saw in Scott. Derek was guarded. He was mostly professional at work, and had never mentioned any outside friends to Stiles, which he thought was a little strange. He liked Isaac enough, but it sounded like the only thing that Derek really liked about him was his diligence and respect for books.   
  
But they were friends, right? Derek had brought him here, had made him coffee, had befriended his dog. Stiles supposed that he could be awake right now if it meant he had another friend.   
  
They went out the backdoor of the basement instead of up through the rest of the house, and spent the morning hiking the hillside that the house was on. Stiles kept Bane on a lead just in case, even though the whole area was technically fenced in, as he’d seen when they drove up.   
  
Derek showed Stiles the land, passed him granola bars and water every now and then because they hadn’t had a proper breakfast. Since quitting lacrosse after high school, Stiles hadn’t had the regular aerobic exercise that Derek apparently regularly engaged in, and by eleven, he was begging to go back.   
  
“C’mon dude, you’ve seen how much time I spend inside the library,” Stiles argued. “I’m not only a city kid, I’m an indoor city kid.”   
  
“Isn’t your home town called Beacon _Hills_?” Derek asked, cocking a sassy eyebrow his way. Stiles sighed. “Fine, fine,” Derek said, leading Stiles back down a different way, pointing out his favorite parts, pausing at a spot where the trees broke open and Stiles felt like he could practically see the ocean (he couldn’t). Back down the hill wasn’t as difficult, but Stiles still had to keep a sharp eye on where he was putting his feet. When they got back to Derek’s house, Stiles collapsed on a chair at the kitchen table, and let Derek get him a gigantic glass of ice water.   
  
“I’m not a weakling,” Stiles moaned, letting his limbs relax against the oak of the table. Even though it wasn’t summer yet and it was northern California, the exertion of the morning had made Stiles sweat through his shirt. He felt disgusting. Bane panted at his feet, and Derek put a water bowl out for her, which she nearly collapsed into.   
  
“She really is your dog, isn’t she?” Derek teased, as they watched Bane splayed out on the kitchen floor.   
  
“We are one in the same,” Stiles said, his glass nearly empty now.   
  
“I’ll go easy on you for the rest of the day,” Derek said, getting stuff out of the fridge for turkey sandwiches and thunking the water pitcher down next to Stiles’ now empty cup. Derek put an inhuman amount of mustard on both of their sandwiches, and while Stiles had protested, Derek had insisted, and he was right. It was the best turkey sandwich he’d ever had.   
  
“Alright,” Derek said, dumping their plates into the sink, “I have a Stiles Approved activity for the afternoon,” he said, leading Stiles back down the stairs to his room. It may have been a Saturday, but on the ranch no one gets a day off. The house was quiet and empty, but they could hear the chatter of Derek’s family, their full time employees, and some volunteers drifting down the hillside. Derek grabbed a novel off of the coffee table by the couch he was sleeping on that week, and told Stiles to grab his school bag.   
  
Then he led Stiles into a part of the house that he hadn’t seen before. They went up the stairs to the second floor (which Derek noticed lacked a very distinct fresh paint smell), down a long hallway and through a pair of french doors, into a room with a vaulted ceiling and gorgeous huge windows that let the afternoon sunlight pour through leaded panes in such surplus that Stiles thought he might get sunstroke.   
  
“I feel like I’m in Beauty and the Beast,” Stiles breathed, trying to wrap his head around the stacks, which were much taller than the reasonable ones at school that he could shelve without the help of a kick stool. These bookshelves were dark mahogany, with brass rails at the top to secure the tall ladders that were necessary for accessing the upper levels of the books.   
  
“So which are you?” Derek asked cheekily. “Beauty or the beast?”   
  
“Well, Bane is beauty, for sure,” Stiles said, his hand absently dropping to find the top of her head. When Stiles wasn’t at school or work, Bane was at his side; she was his permanent fixture. “And perhaps also the beast,” he said, making a face and wiping off the copious amounts of slobber from his hand on his jeans.   
  
The room had two walls that were completely covered in books, a few free standing stacks, a few tables with power hookups, and a cozy nook by the fireplace (Stiles had to take a moment for himself - a fireplace!?) with large leather chairs. Derek chose one of those for himself immediately, cracking open the book he was reading, and pointing a remote (a remote!?) at the fireplace. Stiles heard it whoosh on.   
  
This was the kind of library where naughty librarian porno was filmed.   
  
“Make yourself at home,” Derek said, nodding toward the tables and smiling, pleased with himself. He took his glasses off momentarily to wipe them clean, and then replaced them on his nose with the smoothness of a model. Stiles had given himself free reign for the whole week to groan and moan about Derek’s general attractiveness - internally. His insides hadn’t stopped screaming since noon on Friday.   
  
Stiles had seen Derek without his glasses a number of times, but he thought he looked right with them on, like now. Thick black rims, a book in his hands, a fire licking at his feet. If he had no control over himself, he would have dropped his backpack and crawled into Derek’s lap. And as Derek had so graciously pointed out, he and his dog were one in the same. Derek let out a small _oof_ as Bane climbed up onto the large chair with him. She didn’t really fit, but she obviously didn’t care. He laughed, letting a hand drop into her scruff.   
  
“What a little rascal,” he said, partly to Stiles, partly to himself. Stiles felt another pang from the affection in Derek’s voice, and pulled himself dutifully toward a table that overlooked a window. There was nothing ugly about the Hale land. It was vast and picturesque, and Stiles could imagine himself here forever, secluded inside this giant house with this massive library, and his hot hot librarian friend.   
  
“Focus, Stilinski,” Stiles whispered to himself as he pulled out his laptop. He had most of his research done, and Derek had let Stiles photograph the pages of a few of the books that he thought he might still need. Mostly, he was working on filling out his outline with research. He’d come back and connect the dots with his own words and thoughts. He just wanted to get things in place.   
  
Organizing was good for Stiles’ mind. It helped him systematically remove his thoughts from the sexy librarian sitting across the room from him, and made him feel like he had a purpose here. He was at the Hale house for research and enrichment reasons. And maybe because he and Derek were friends. And that was all.   
  
“I can hear you fidgeting all the way over here,” Derek said a half hour later. “Usually you’re so focused and quiet I’m surprised you’re moving at all. What’s up?”   
  
“It’s so perfect here,” Stiles half lied. “You can see wolves roaming the woods. It smells like outside inside without having to actually be outside.” Derek laughed behind him and Stiles finally turned in his chair to see Derek’s legs up over the arm of the large chair, Bane snuggled on his chest, almost overwhelming him. Mayday. _Mayday_.   
  
“Alright,” Stiles said, standing up from the table and the window, “It’s time to do this Stilinski style.” He grabbed his computer and walked over to the fireplace, stretching out on the floor in front of it on his stomach, computer in front of him. If he had to type a paper it would have been uncomfortable, but most of what was going on was copy/pasting and thoughts bumping into each other in his head. He heard Derek chuckle as he got settled. “What?”   
  
“I used to do the same thing when I was a kid,” he said. Stiles could hear Bane’s heavy breathing of near-sleep as Derek slowly threaded his fingers through her fur. “With a book of course. And not in front of this fireplace, it hadn’t been built yet. But in our old house.”   
  
“Your old house? Where was that?” Stiles asked, his mind now officially off the topic of thesis.   
  
“Here,” Derek said. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime later.” His voice wasn’t mean, but he seemed closed off. The conversation was done.   
  
Stiles tried again in vain to start working again after Derek propped his book back up to his face, but to no avail. Even the way the room smelled of leather and wood polish and old books distracted him; it faintly reminded him of private collections and he felt safe. And in the age old Stilinski tradition of having time off, Stiles accidentally took an impromptu nap.   
  
-  
  
Stiles woke up on the couch in the library, thick beams of late afternoon sunlight cooking him through the windows. Derek’s chair was vacant, and Bane wasn’t at his side. He didn’t often wake up without her.   
  
“Baby,” he called out. “Where are you? C’mere.” His sleeping brain wasn’t thinking about his wording, and he called Bane ‘baby’ more than her actual name.   
  
He sat up on the couch just as Derek’s mom popped her head in the door.  
  
“Der’s out with the wolves,” she said, and Stiles thanked her, realizing only after she was gone that she must have thought he’d been calling out to Derek. He let out a breath and smoothed a hand over his face and back through his hair before tracing the maze out of the house and back to the ranch. He worried about Julie’s potential misinterpretation of his ‘baby’ until the moment he crested the ridge. He saw Derek standing inside the fence talking to his dad, Bane and Chief playing at his feet, and he didn’t feel like there was anything to worry about anymore.   
  
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Derek said, sticking a foot out to nudge the pile of puppy at his feet. “Bane met some wolves. I think she likes them.”   
  
“I am not used to her liking things yet,” Stiles said, opening the gate to step through. Derek’s dad greeted him, then checked his watch and tucked back into the office to finish up paperwork before dinner. Derek’s dad seemed quiet, like Derek was. Stiles made a mental note to carve out some time soon to talk wolves with him.   
  
“Perhaps she’s just been waiting for the right thing to like,” Derek said, something in his voice telling Stiles that he wasn’t just talking about his dog. _Don’t get ahead of yourself_ , Stilinski, he scolded himself. _Reign. It. In_.  
  
They stayed out with the wolves until the sun went down. Stiles befriended a small wolf they called Judy Dark, who was shy but sassy. Stiles liked being outside with them, with Derek. If he’d stayed back on campus he’d be eating greasy pizza and playing an MMORPG, The Godfather on the background. But here he had a wolf in his lap on a sprawling hillside.  
  
Stiles was ramped after his nap - ready to go an entire more day. Derek made them nachos because Stiles had slept through dinner, and they sat in the basement and watched the Bourne trilogy until the early morning when Stiles only had enough energy to walk back to Derek’s bed. He threw a blanket over Derek where he was bent sideways on the arm of the couch asleep and turned the TV off.   
  
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, waving his hand in a vaguely attention-grabbing way in Bane’s line of sight. She curled closer to Derek on the couch. “Ugh, you’re such a traitor. You’d better be in bed by the time I brush my teeth,” he said, and she was there when he finally slid under the covers.   
  
-  
  
Bane wasn’t there again when he woke up in the middle of the night, shaking and drawing thin, difficult breaths through his terrified lungs. He reached out for her, making an embarrassing little needy sound in the back of his throat that he didn’t think twice about. He was more concerned with where his dog was, and why she hadn’t woken him up from his nightmare sooner.   
  
He felt her paws hit the bed half a minute later, clumsy with her own sleep. He scrambled to sit upright, to wrap his arms around her and press his face into her neck. He ran his fingers through her long fur trying to soothe himself.   
  
“Are you alright?” Derek asked, his shadow looming in the doorway. Stiles jumped a little, tried to calm himself down enough to seem normal, and not like a twenty-two year old kid who still got nightmares.   
  
“Just,” Stiles said, his breathing still hard and painful, “bad dream. She usually wakes me up before it gets this bad.”   
  
“She’d taken up sleeping residence on my chest again,” Derek said. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“She’s a fickle woman, apparently,” Stiles said. He was shaking all over. He couldn’t remember having a dream this bad since he was a teenager. Of course it was the same one, in the hospital, unable to find his mom. Just - it was just worse tonight.   
  
“Scoot over,” Derek said, his dark form moving closer to the bed - his bed, that Stiles was only sleeping in.   
  
“You don’t have to-” Stiles started, but Derek cut him off.   
  
“I used to get bad dreams too,” Derek said. “Still do. But getting a back rub always helped. Scoot.”   
  
Derek was wearing a dark grey tanktop and tight black boxer briefs, and Stiles was grateful that he couldn’t make out any fine details in this light. Derek slid under the covers next to him, and pulled their bodies together. He tangled his legs with Stiles’ in a way that was so natural that it made Stiles shake harder. If he wasn’t an emotional mess, he would have worried about getting hard and having his dick literally pressing into Derek’s thigh. But he wasn’t faking his fear, his discomfort, his anxiety. He had nothing to worry about south of the belt.  
  
Derek’s chest was warmer than Bane and his hands were large, strong, comforting. He held Stiles to him at his waist with one arm, and ran his free hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back, from the grey area between where his back ended and the soft curve of his ass started, up his spine, hovering protectively over his nape and up into his hair, fingers threading through the short brown strands like he knew them already, then back down. Over and over, nice and slow.    
  
Bane curled up next to them, licking the exposed bits of Stiles’ skin as an apology for not being there when he needed her. Stiles was warm and comfortable, his tremors bleeding straight out of him as though Derek was sucking his pain out with his touch. He could get used to this for sure. He didn’t have any difficulty getting back to sleep.  
  
-  
  
He woke up with a very heavy Derek Hale on top of him. Derek’s face was tucked into his neck, his arms still secured around his body. Stiles had no idea what to do. It wasn’t like Stiles was a virgin, but he’d never let anyone sleep over before, and if he wasn’t home already, he went home to Bane after. He had zero morning after experience, especially of the non-traditional variety.  
  
Was this awkward? He and Derek had never more than flirted. Then they had a middle of the night comfort rendezvous and woke up in the same bed. _Awkward? Yes? No?_ Stiles thought to himself. Not awkward... Not completely normal though. He chewed that thought in his brain until Bane noticed he was awake, wasting no time pressing her heavy steps into the mattress and nosing at Derek’s face.   
  
Stiles supposed he’d have to face Derek eventually as there was literally no way to gracefully sneak out of this situation, but he wasn’t looking for ways to expedite the awkward.   
  
Derek groaned as he woke up, his hand blindly reaching out for Bane’s muzzle, petting her for a few seconds before making an attempt at extracting himself from the tangle he was in with Stiles. Good first morning instincts.  
  
“‘Morning,” he said, pushing himself up and off a bit, without actually leaving the bed. “You feeling okay?” he asked, close enough for Stiles to smell his morning breath when he talked; he was surprisingly unbothered by it. Stiles interpreted his question to mean _are you feeling better than you were feeling last night when I had to come hold you so you could sleep_ , and not _are you okay with the fact that we woke up in bed together_.  
  
“I actually, uh,” Stiles said, trying to get his brain online in the face of this glorious and terrible moment. “I slept better last night than I have ever slept after a nightmare,” he said, and it was the truth. “I usually have to wake up for a while, read a book, play some video games or something so I don’t just fall back into it. And then the next day I’m wrecked. But, yeah, dude, I feel actually rested.” He paused for a second, then finally pushed himself into it. “Thank you.”  
  
“No problem,” Derek said, acknowledging his thanks with a smile before getting out of bed so casually Stiles could hardly stand it. “I’m gonna take first shower, if that’s cool,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom they were sharing.   
  
“Yeah,” Stiles said and got up to take Bane out.   
  
Stiles endured a day of Derek’s family awkwardly waggling their eyebrows in their direction - his mom must have passed on the misunderstood ‘baby’ from the day before - and even escaped Derek for a while in the library while Laura confiscated her brother for a hike with Chief and a few other wolves. Bane stayed with Stiles for once, likely feeling bad still for ditching him the night before.   
  
Mike Hale found him a little after Laura and Derek left, Bane curled up on his lap on the couch in front of the fire. He was putting up no pretenses in regards to working on schoolwork. He had _A Game of Thrones_ sitting open in his hands, nearing completion.   
  
“Derek said you’re interested in wolves,” Mike said, sitting in one of the chairs next to the couch. “Werewolves,” he clarified.   
  
“Yeah, my thesis for Anthro is about how the werewolf stories of different cultures reflect their region and cultural habits and expectations, religious beliefs, political problems, etc, historically,” Stiles said, giving Mr. Hale the scholarly project pitch instead of the emotional one he’d given Derek.   
  
“Derek has been telling me about how smart you are,” Mike said. He looked a lot like Derek - dark, with Derek’s well-defined bone structure. His eyes were different though; Derek got his eyes from his mom.   
  
“Derek’s been a lot of help to me,” Stiles said, deflecting the statement. He wasn’t sure what the Hales were expecting out of him, but it seemed like there was a little bit of a miscommunication going on. Mike seemed to sense Stiles’ apparent discomfort and segued into a topic that was more appealing to both of them, opening up a book of photos he’d brought up with him to share.  
  
Mike told Stiles about his humble beginnings as a volunteer at a dog shelter, and how he grew up with dogs his whole life. He wanted to help, and did an internship at a wolf sanctuary in Montana when he was in college. It all snowballed from there. He was able to connect with the wolves in a way that he couldn’t manage with people. He met Julie there. After seeing Mike’s enthusiasm for the work that he did, he couldn’t imagine him choosing someone who didn’t share it.   
  
“Everything was fine until the fire, but we’ve recovered since, as I’m sure you could tell,” he said, laughing a little bit.   
  
“The fire?” Stiles asked. _What fire?_  
  
“Derek didn’t tell you about it?” Mike asked, and Stiles shook his head. “Well, he should be the one...” Mike said, trailing off. “Derek is,” he started, clearly trying to get a grasp on what he was saying before he said it. Stiles had seen Derek do this same thing. “Derek is a bit of a puzzle. A tough one to crack. But he’s worth it. He’s worth the work.”  
  
“Of course,” Stiles said, feeling again like they were treading into uncomfortable territory.   
  
“He doesn’t trust easily,” he continued, picking up the photo album he’d been showing Stiles of the ranch. “I’m not sure what you’ve done to earn it, but know that it is not freely given. It’s a prize. Don’t make him regret it.”   
  
“I won’t, sir,” Stiles said. There was something reminiscent about the way his own dad had talked to his boyfriends in high school.  
  
“I like you, kid. But be careful with his heart, alright? It’s fragile.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder and exited the room on that thought.   
  
And there it was. Heavy and present, the thought that had been congealing on the edges of every conversation he’d had so far this break. This was real. Did Derek know that his whole family thought they were dating? Was that what he had told them?   
  
-  
  
Stiles waited for Derek in his room, curled up in his bed with Bane and his book. Derek had been right when he’d initially billed this spring break - it was cold.   
  
“There you are,” Derek said when he and Laura finally got back from their hike. “I went straight for the library and you weren’t there.”   
  
“Cold,” Stiles said, trying to figure out how to approach the conversation he had to have with Derek.   
  
“Okay,” Derek said, noticing that Stiles was acting a little strange, but not pointing it out. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then would you want to go into town? A couple friends of mine own a bar on Main, and it would be a nice break from all this nature.” He was clearly trying to get Stiles to at least smile. It wasn’t working very well. Stiles nodded anyway.   
  
“Yeah,” he said, and then spent the next ten minutes of his life debating the choices he’d made up until that point, the sound of the shower heavy on his thoughts.   
  
Derek came out in jeans and a grey henley, toweling dry his damp hair.   
  
“Are you hungry?” Derek asked, “Because the bar serves burgers too-”  
  
“Did you tell your parents that we’re dating?” Stiles asked, deciding that his conversational strategy was going to be his classic: cut to the chase. Derek turned pink instantly, but also looked confused enough for Stiles to not immediately jump to conclusions. “Because it would be a lot easier for all of us if we were on the same page regarding the fake boyfriend situation.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Derek asked, his voice so thin it was almost a whisp.   
  
“I got the ‘don’t break my son’s heart’ speech from your dad today,” Stiles explained, cuddling down into the covers and possibly pouting a little bit. Stiles had been harbouring a crush on Derek for a while, and when things stepped in the way of his affection-at-a-distance plan it made him cranky. If people were going to think they were dating, he wanted to at least be getting some.   
  
“He said what?” Derek asked, his face nervous, teetering on the edge of hurt.   
  
“He told me that you were worth all the work, and that you didn’t trust easily. And that I should be careful because your heart is delicate.” He may have been paraphrasing a bit, but he felt like he covered the important bits.   
  
“I can’t believe,” Derek started, sitting down on the edge of his bed while still giving Stiles some room, Bane crawling over to him.   
  
“He said I should ask you about the fire,” Stiles said a little more delicately, and Derek sighed deep. He looked up at Stiles with raw eyes. So young.   
  
“Everyone likes to reassure me that the fire wasn’t my fault,” Derek said. He paused, took a deep breath, then started with a slight shake in his voice. “Kate was a volunteer here when I was a teenager. She wasn’t a teenager. She was a little too old for me, so she told me to keep everything a secret. I did because I was young and dumb. And I thought I loved her.”  
  
“Oh, Derek,” Stiles said, immediately empathizing, a little something clicking into place in his brain that helped explain Derek a lot better.   
  
“She was an animal rights activist. One of the crazy ones - PETA crazy. On the old ranch, everything was locked with a keycode. We have badges now that can be turned off at night, except my dad’s. But it used to be keycodes. Only a few of us had them, and she needed one to get access to the barn in the middle of the night. I, of course, had no idea why she wanted it.”  
  
Stiles slid out from under the covers. He got out of bed and took a step toward Derek, slowly, non-threateningly.   
  
“The night after I finally gave her the, uh, _code_ ,” he coughed, and Stiles heard a lot more than ‘code’ in his voice, “she set fire to the ranch and the house. Everyone got out of the house - my uncle Peter sustained some pretty severe burns - but about a third of the wolves were killed. A lot of the others got away. It was,” he took a deep breath, and Stiles saw how moist his eyes were when he opened them back up. He wasn’t crying, but he was clearly holding it back. “It was my fault,” he said, simply. Stiles closed the remaining gap between them, his hands cupping Derek’s face. Derek’s legs parted so he could stand closer, and for a moment, Stiles just held his eye contact, just stroked his cheeks slowly with his thumbs. Stiles as surprised to see how young he looked - how many years his regular, protective scowl added to his face.   
  
“Stiles,” Derek started, his voice sounding burnt to the ground. Stiles bent to him, pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It was gentle and chaste, and Stiles didn’t deepen it when Derek’s hands came up to his waist.   
  
“Not your fault,” Stiles whispered, quieting Derek’s protests.   
  
Stiles kissed the bridge of his nose, his forehead, the top of his hair, before pulling Derek to his chest. He could feel Derek’s gentle trembles, the desperation with which he attempted to suppress them. Bane dropped her head in his lap, and Stiles continued to stand in front of him holding him carefully, breaths coming slow but heavy in the basement of Derek’s parent’s house, fingers sifting through Derek’s short hair.   
  
After a few minutes Derek stood, calmed, breaths coming even and determined. He looked the same, and Stiles felt the same. But he could feel that something was different now. Derek’s hands were still on his waist when he dipped his head small centimeters to kiss Stiles again. This wasn’t a pity kiss or a comfort kiss. This was something else entirely. Derek needed to brush his teeth and Stiles had terribly chapped lips, and it was clumsy in the way kissing is before a rhythm is found. But Stiles could feel Derek’s heartbeat in his lips, knew by the way the hair on the back of his neck had its own private shiver before one of Derek’s large hands came up to his nape to smooth it away. This - this kiss, this man, this childhood basement bedroom - this was something real.   
  
-  
  
Later, they went to that bar in town that his friends Boyd and Erica own and Derek let Stiles steal nearly half of his fries. The floodgates opened. Stiles Stilinski was pretty sure he was falling in love.   
  
-  
  
Stiles drifted through the next day, unashamedly high on his happiness. He’d woken up after a night of mostly innocent kissing and a little not innocent groping wrapped around Derek’s back, his face not so elegantly pressed against Derek’s back tattoo.   
  
They’d kissed in the kitchen long after the rest of the Hales had gone to work with the wolves while Derek was burning breakfast for both of them. They’d kissed and cuddled in the library, and Stiles didn’t give a single thought to his thesis as Derek pressed him back into the couch, let his hand drift up under his shirt to ghost over the muscles of his stomach. They kissed in the woods after Derek had convinced Stiles that they should get some fresh air; Stiles only agreed because they both knew the hike was all pretense.   
  
The woods were nice in the late afternoon, though a little cold. Derek had his arm wrapped protectively around Stiles’ shoulders both to keep him a little warmer and to keep contact. Stiles felt like his whole body was on fire whenever Derek touched him, and he was glad that Derek seemed to crave the touch in the same way that he did.   
  
“What are we going to tell your parents about us?” Stiles asked, as they walked down a fairly level path along the ridge, a favorite of the volunteers who took the animals on walks.   
  
“What are you going to tell you dad?” Derek challenged, even though he knew what Stiles was asking.   
  
“Dude, c’mon,” Stiles said. “You know what I mean. Your parents already think we’re together. What if they ask questions. What do we say?”   
  
“Are you trying to ask me if I want to tell my parents that you’re my boyfriend?” Derek asked, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit, smug.   
  
“I guess since you’re being so annoying about it I’ll just ask you if _you_ want to be my boyfriend,” Stiles said, his voice only trembling a little. Direct approach. It had worked for him before.    
  
“I like your assertiveness,” Derek said, sounding approving. “And the little crack in your voice when you said the word boyfriend,” his words teased a little, but he pressed a kiss to Stiles’ cheek, the blush on his skin immediate.   
  
“Spit it out, Hale,” Stiles said. “You’re deflecting.”  
  
He was. He wasn’t used to people pointing it out to him. Usually people either didn’t care (everyone), or granted him a certain amount of leeway that no one would admit was directly linked to Derek’s emotional issues that sprung up after the fire (his family). He liked that Stiles wasn’t taking his bullshit.   
   
“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Derek said, his tone soft.   
  
“Well then it’s agreed,” Stiles said, giving his words the kind of weight that Derek needed. Joking around a little was alright, but he wanted Derek to be one hundred percent clear on his intentions. “So are we going to make up a little bit of history for us so it’s not completely embarrassing that we weren’t together when we came up here?” Derek laughed, just a little. Stiles still hadn’t heard the full, crippling effect of Derek’s true laughter, but even the bits he’d been handing out lately were sustaining for Stiles.   
  
“I doubt either of my parents will ask. My mom might in a few weeks, after we leave. She’s been pushing me to find someone for a while, especially since I got my master’s and a permanent job.”  
  
“You’re kind of a lone wolf, aren’t you?” Stiles asked, still working on cracking Derek’s shell. It was bit by bit, one flake of emotion at a time. He sort of liked it - he felt like an archeologist, gently brushing dirt off of precious artifacts.   
  
“It doesn’t take much to teach someone to always be very careful when selecting people to trust. So far my selection process has left me a little...”  
  
“Completely alone?” Stiles supplied, teasing, but with concern.   
  
“I was going to say ‘lacking on the friends front’ but that works too.” Derek’s face was back to the grumpy look that Stiles had gotten used to seeing in the library, but didn’t quite seem in place up here.   
  
“Do you really trust me?” Stiles asked, still surprised at his luck. Derek was a catch. He spent some serious time at the library telling his fellow students (mostly female, but not entirely) that he only had the number to the Special Collections room, and not Mr. Hale’s cell, sorry (but yes, he agreed that he had a fine ass). He kept thinking about how strange it was that they had fallen into this friendship, this relationship. But it felt right, even comfortable, like Stiles had known Derek a lot longer than a few months of library research appointments.   
  
“Yes,” Derek said, his grip tightening on Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles understood the gravity of Derek’s trust - hearing it confirmed with the seriousness that Derek had in his voice was more than Stiles was expecting the day after their first kiss. But Stiles doubted the kiss would have come before the trust.   
  
“I trust you, too,” Stiles said. “Bane trusts you. And you can’t fake that shit.” Bane appeared from her side adventure weaving in and out of the trees, only off leash because the wolves were kenneled for the night. She nosed at Derek’s side a bit before sprinting away toward a squirrel. Stiles and Bane were already a little family of their own, and Derek seemed to fit right in, as though he had been crafted just for them.   
  
-  
  
They left on Sunday morning, reality on the crest of the next wave. Stiles was actively dreading having to wake up in the morning, not only because it was a monday which meant he had early calc, but also because it would be the first day in a nice handful of very memorable mornings where he’d be waking up alone. Or as alone as someone who wakes up to dog drool on their face can be.   
  
Stiles had never felt this way before. He’d had boyfriends before, and a couple girlfriends, and they were alright. He enjoyed hanging out with them, enjoyed making out with them. But with Derek, the thought of going more than twenty minutes without seeing him made him a little anxious. This was new and powerful and Stiles felt completely high on it. His skin prickled when Derek shot a glance over at him as they flew down the freeway toward home.   
  
Derek seemed to have whatever Stiles had too. He apologized early on in their friendship for being a naturally tactile person - hand on your shoulder, knees pressed together under the table at the coffee shop. Stiles had never minded these little touches; he lived for them. But now that Stiles was Derek’s boyfriend, it was near constant. Hand holding, cuddling, petting, stroking. Stiles woke up one morning with Derek octopused around him, limbs trapping him tight against Derek’s chest. Derek liked to hold; he liked to be held.   
  
Derek held Stiles’ hand the entire drive back, letting go only when they stopped at the gas station so Stiles could pee. Derek lingered when he dropped Stiles off at his apartment, coming up to help Stiles carry the bags he didn’t need help carrying.   
  
“Don’t go until you absolutely have to,” Stiles blurted out, and Derek let out the breath he’d been holding and dropped Stiles’ duffell to the floor. He flopped on the couch and Stiles followed, trying to savor that feeling they had at the Hale’s ranch - trying to hold onto that spark now that they weren’t in a magical place removed from reality and responsibility. The air in Stiles’ apartment felt heavy, but Derek felt the same beneath him.   
  
“We’re going to have to talk about the thing,” Stiles said, making a face at the conversation that they had been avoiding since Derek had accidentally mentioned the possibility of their relationship being inappropriate in the eyes of UC Davis.   
  
“Two months until you graduate,” Derek said, offering the first option. It was the best option and Stiles knew that. Waiting until he graduated to be public about what they had.   
  
“Two months of having my gorgeous boyfriend work in literally the same building as I do without being able to kiss him whenever I want,” Stiles said. He wasn’t sure what was making him feel so attached to Derek. From what he’d read online, love just didn’t happen this fast. There was build up.   
  
Build up like spending two months in the basement of the library flirting, then having the most incredible spring break Stiles could have imagined without the painful sunburn afterward. Maybe there was build up.   
  
He pushed the thought out of his brain. Falling in love was Very Serious and he had a thesis to write and a degree to get.   
  
“You’ve finished your research. There isn’t really any reason for you to be in the special collections room anymore. And everyone knows that I only talk to students when I have to. Even a platonic friendship would be weird.” Derek knew he was being reasonable, but at the same time he also knew that if he had the choice he would quit his job to follow Stiles around all day. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the weight of Stiles’ body pressed against his.   
  
Stiles sighed. “Do we even have any other options?” he asked, knowing it was fruitless. There was a scandal Stiles’ sopohmore year with an IT staff person and a few students that got a little heated. Well, mostly the staff member fled the state on kiddie porn charges, but there was also some purchasing of alcohol for under age gentelmen, and aparently an indecent amount of hottubbing, and while Stiles and Derek’s relationship looked nothing like that, neither of them could afford any sort of repercussions from this relationship.   
  
It was going to be a long two months.   
  
-  
  
“I think I’m addicted to him,” Stiles told Scott one night when Derek had a shift at the reference desk and Stiles was supposed to be editing the (hopefully final) draft of his thesis his advisor finally sent back to him. He’d chosen pizza and bro time instead. Between his thesis, Derek, and Scott’s girlfriend Allison, they hadn’t had a lot of time together lately.   
  
“I know the feeling,” Scott said, getting some pretty serious Allison-face. Stiles hoped that he didn’t look that completely hopeless when he thought about Derek be he couldn’t be too confident about it. He certainly felt that hopeless. “Everything reminds me of her. I’m reading for bio or something and I’ll come across a word that starts with A. Allison’s name starts with A. I’m almost completely non-functional.”   
  
“Yeah, dude,” Stiles said, nodding. He was currently shoving a piece of pepperoni pizza into his mouth thinking both about the last time he had pepperoni pizza (with Derek) and also of the myriad other things he’d like to be shoving into his mouth (all of those things started with Derek’s ___ ). “Is this what love feels like? Because when I went out with Amy I told her I loved her, and I thought I meant it, but shit. This is like electric shocks going down every nerve. When he’s gone I can’t stop thinking about him and when we’re together I still can’t stop thinking about him.”   
  
“The addiction thing sounds pretty fitting,” Scott said through a mouthful of cheese and crust. “I mean, that’s what love is right? Choosing a person to be around because you can’t not be around them?”  
  
“Sounds like there have been better definitions,” Stiles assessed, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Bane was eyeing the piece in his hand and he shoved her away a little. She wasn’t generally a beggar, but then again, she proved over and over that she was Stiles’ dog and this was _pizza_.   
  
“Don’t overthink it,” Scott said, and Stiles paused, then nodded at Scott’s surprising advice. Don’t overthink it. Maybe he could do it.   
  
-  
  
He couldn’t do it. In the two weeks since they’d gotten back from the ranch, Stiles had pretty much thought of one thing and one thing only: Sex.   
  
Stiles wasn’t a virgin and neither was Derek, but they both seemed to be existing in this world of careful steps and lots of precautions. Stiles knew how badly Derek had been hurt the last time he combined sex with emotion, so for now it seemed like they were only doing the emotion bit. Which was more than fine with Stiles, by the way. The kissing and touching and rubbing was incredible, and he’d rather be just kissing Derek than having sex with anyone else.   
  
No, he wasn’t just thinking about when he was going to be able to get his rocks off with Derek. He was attempting to craft the perfect proposition. Though they hadn’t discussed the top-vs-bottom situation, their conversations strongly hinted to Stiles that Derek was the kind of guy who men just rolled over for, bared their necks for.   
  
This wasn’t really a problem for Stiles. He liked getting fucked. He liked rolling over, so to speak. He just also like being the one doing the fucking instead of just receiving it. And _good freaking lord_ he wanted to fuck Derek. He just had no idea how to bring it up.    
  
“Where are you?” Derek mumbled into his neck late on a Friday night, holding Stiles close in his bed and absently kissing any warm patch of skin he could reach.   
  
“Hmm?” Stiles asked, hand grabbing Derek’s bicep to let him know he was paying attention now.   
  
“Where’d you go?” he asked, voice gentle and soft. When Derek was alone with Stiles he was a lot gentler than when he was in public, or with anyone else. Derek had a very small amount of patience for social interaction, which was why they spent quite a bit of time at Derek’s house and very little at Stiles and Scott’s apartment. Scott still didn’t understand why Stiles felt so strongly about Derek, couldn’t see the good. Stiles knew that Derek wasn’t doing it on purpose, that it was just a level of mental defense against the outside world that Derek still thought was necessary to his existence. Stiles was trying to slowly break it down.   
  
“Just thinking,” Stiles said, vague, on the edge of floating back off into his thoughts.   
  
“What about?” Derek said, smoothing a hand down Stiles’ bare ribcage, stopping just above the elastic of his boxer briefs. His kisses turned more aggressive, and Stiles slipped a hand between them and pushed Derek’s chest back.   
  
“I’m thinking about this,” Stiles said, trying the Direct Approach again. He pushed Derek onto his back and slipped between his legs. He hovered only slightly above Derek, supporting his weight on his forearms. It was a little cold in Derek’s house, but Derek was warm - always so much warmer than Stiles felt. He rocked his hips gently into Derek’s, neither of them particularly hard, but neither unwilling. Derek let out a quiet groan, his hands coming to rest on Stiles’ hips, fingers tightening their grip when Stiles rolled their hips together again.   
  
“We could...” Derek started, trying to focus but having difficulty. “We could do that,” he said, his voice tentative in a way that Stiles would have never expected to hear from him before their spring break together. He also wouldn’t have expected how sharply it pulled on his heart.   
  
“I was thinking that um,” Stiles said, pressing his nose into Derek’s neck so he wouldn’t have to suffer Derek knowing how hard he was blushing. “I was thinking I could do the, uh,” he tried to think of a way to word it that wouldn’t be emasculating. He rolled his hips into Derek again. “The thrusting portion of the activity?”  
  
“Mmm,” Derek hummed, using his grip on Stiles’ hips to press them closer together, letting Stiles feel what his idea was doing to him. He was definately on his way to full arousal. “I could be persuaded,” he said, but his voice was tentative, almost a question.   
  
“If you don’t want to,” Stiles started, hearing the hesitance in his voice, despite the hard-on that Derek was currently pressing against his own. “It’s totally cool. I mean, you could just be in charge of the thrusting, I’d like that just as much,” he said, kissing the spot behind Derek’s ear that always made him turn into a sweet kind of jelly.   
  
“No,” Derek said, “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I’ve never,” he paused, looking for the words. He wiggled his hips beneath Stiles and Stiles smiled, finally lifting his gaze to Derek’s face, seeing his own blush reflected on Derek’s face. Shit, talking about sex was one million times more difficult than just having it.   
  
“But you trust me,” Stiles said softly, only breaking their eyecontact to press a kiss to Derek’s cheek. Something seemed to settle in Derek - he looked resolved.   
  
“I trust you,” he said, slipping his hands down lower, under the waistband of Stiles’ boxers, spreading his hands over the soft skin of Stiles’ ass. He slipped the boxers off slowly, enjoying the shiver that ran down Stiles’ back, equal parts anticipation and actual chill.   
  
They spent most of their time in bed nearly naked, but not quite there. Stiles had taken to wearing sleep pants to bed frequently since it had been so chilly, and Derek, while comfortable in his boxers, didn’t seem comfortable enough to shed them. This strip down was An Event, and Stiles could feel the weight of the moment hovering over his skin. He shifted to help Derek pull his underwear all the way off, then pressed him back into the mattress so he could pull Derek’s off as well.   
  
“You’re comfortable?” Stiles said, practically able to hear the pounding of Derek’s heart over his own heavy breaths. He sat back on his haunches between Derek’s legs, seeing a little fear in Derek’s eyes, his entire body completely exposed to Stiles’ eager eyes.   
  
Derek nodded. “I’m good,” he confirmed, and Stiles pressed the palms of his hands into Derek’s inner thighs, smiled when he saw Derek’s dick jump at his touch.   
  
“You’re beautiful,” Stiles told him, letting his eyes rake over Derek’s strong thighs, his tight abs, the vast expanse of his chest, the veins in his muscular forearms, his thick, heavy dick. He loved the blush that crept over Derek’s cheeks, the tips of his ears. Stiles loved making Derek bashful.   
  
Stiles pressed himself back to Derek’s chest and sucked a mark into his collarbone before dropping more kisses onto his jaw. Derek’s hands directed Stiles’ mouth to his own, momentarily taking the control back just long enough to feel Stiles’ knees wobble.   
  
“Alright,” Derek said a little nervous. His hands gripped Stiles’ jaw tight. He brought Stiles’ forehead down to rest on his own. “I trust you.”   
  
Stiles was beginning to think that Derek’s _I trust you_ was the same as everyone elses’ _I love you_.   
  
“I trust you, too,” Stiles responded as he reached for the lube and a condom. They’d talked about the possibility of sex before. The inevitability, really. Derek had been recently tested, and so had Stiles. But condoms were always a good idea.   
  
“So, because you are merely a padawan, and I am a Jedi Knight of Taking It, I would sagely recommend that you flip to your knees for this portion, as it is less painful and generally more enjoyable. You can switch back,” he added when he saw the anxiety on Derek’s face, “before we get down to the big event, alright?” Derek nodded and flipped over, his forearms taking his weight, forehead resting on his clasped hands.  
  
Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s lower back, down his ass and thighs. He could feel the tension in Derek’s muscles and hummed concern. “Relax, Der. I’ll take care of you.” Derek let out a breath, and while he didn’t actually relax, Stiles could tell that he was trying.   
  
He massaged his hands over Derek’s ass, unfairly muscled like the rest of him, and dipped his face down, letting his tongue start his prep. Stiles personally enjoyed a fairly thorough rim job, and gave Derek nothing less than what he’d want for himself. Derek kept quiet for a while, muscles tensing repeatedly with each touch, but after a few minutes of gentle licks and prods of his tongue, and he felt Derek begin to relax. A few more minutes and he was letting out tiny gasps. Stiles tried desperately to block on the noises that Derek was making so he could keep his focus on his task.   
  
He kept opening Derek with his tongue for a little longer than he would with someone more experienced, letting Derek get used to the feeling, stringing out a process that he knew was pleasurable and pleasant before he gave his fingers a go.   
  
He warmed up the lube in his hands before he gently teased Derek open, his breath sucking in again, the relaxation Stiles had spent nearly fifteen minutes cultivating disappearing in a second. Stiles wasn’t discouraged, however, and kept his ministrations gentle but persistent, not stopping until he could comfortably move two fingers in Derek, using his tongue to help calm Derek down when he needed to. Derek stayed patient with him. Stiles could tell that he wasn’t quite enjoying it yet. But Stiles wasn’t a quitter. He’d make Derek feel good.  
  
“Okay,” he said, pulling his fingers out of Derek to slide a condom on himself. “Your choice: Stay the way you are, or flip over onto your back,” he pressed a kiss to one of Derek’s ass cheeks before he responded.   
  
“Flip,” he said, moving back to the way he was, facing Stiles. Stiles grabbed the pillow from his side of Derek’s bed, and instructed Derek to lift his hips to accommodate it.   
  
Stiles thought he could live this way, settled comfortably between Derek’s legs, seeing his entire body laid out before him, the muscles in Derek’s ridiculous arms stretched taut, hands clasped behind his head. The look on his face was a mix between adoration and determination. He was trembling slightly. Stiles tried to keep the fact that Derek was doing this for him in the forefront of his mind.   
  
“If you don’t like this, you can absolutely tell me to stop,” Stiles said, capturing Derek’s mouth in a kiss that felt long overdue to Stiles. Derek’s hands clung to him in a way that was secretly desperate. He could feel Derek forcing himself to let go, to make his hands fold again behind his head. He tried to kiss him with a gentle force that conveyed his appreciation for what Derek was willing to do for him.   
  
“I’ve never let anyone do this,” Derek said, and Stiles knew it meant a whole lot more than ‘I’ve never done this before.’ It meant ‘I wouldn’t let you do this either if you weren’t so important to me.’  
  
“Ready?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. Stiles pushed in slowly, more slowly than he thought was possible, and tried to remember how it felt, tried to remember that the grimace on Derek’s face wouldn’t be there the whole time. He nuzzled into Derek’s neck, letting the stubble on Derek’s jaw rasp over his skin, letting himself sink deeper until he was snug against Derek’s thighs. Derek moved experimentally underneath him, trying to figure out a way to feel comfortable. Stiles was pretty appreciative of his average size in the moment. He didn’t want this to go any more difficult than it had - not that Derek was displaying any adverse feelings.   
  
“I’m alright,” Derek said after Stiles had been still for slightly longer than Derek could stand. “Rock my world, stud,” he said, making Stiles laugh and lightening the tone of the moment. Stiles appreciated it. He pulled out only enough to give Derek a little experimental thrust, and Derek let out a huff. Stiles wasn’t sold that it was a huff of pleasure, but at least he wasn’t being silent man anymore.   
  
Stiles worked up to a little rhythm, until he could tell that Derek must have been enjoying himself. The erection he’d lost while Stiles was pushing into him had come back, and letting out breathy sighs, his head thrown back, eyes closed. Stiles couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more turned on, Derek’s masterpiece of a body stretched before his eyes, moving and groaning, hands desperate to keep contact with Stiles.   
  
“Goddamnit,” Stiles said, trying to keep his body under control for as long as he could. “I’m gonna come like a virgin,” he said with a laugh, turning a bit pink.   
  
Derek pulled him close to kiss him and let his legs wrap around Stiles’ hips. Derek was so tight that Stiles could barely breathe, and he’d been worked up for weeks thinking about this moment. Derek clutched onto him when he came, their bodies sticky from sweat. Stiles saw Derek wince and let out a breath when he pulled out, and he kissed his thighs and knees, licked and nipped at his belly.  
  
“You okay?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. “Feel good?” he asked, not getting his hopes up too high for multiple repeat performances any time soon.   
  
“Not bad,” Derek said. “Maybe an acquired taste. You looked incredible.” Stiles blushed a little - he’d been so focused on Derek he’d forgotten to make sure he wasn’t making stupid faces.   
  
“Well, c’mere,” Stiles said, flopping onto his back. “You trusted me. Now I’ll trust you.” He settled onto his back and beckoned for Derek, who swung a leg over his hips and leaned in for a kiss. “You gotta bring your hips a little closer to my lips, sweet thang,” Stiles said, waggling his eyebrows, trying to keep the mood light so the heaviness of their emotional exchange didn’t crush them both. Derek gaped at him. He never let anyone fuck his mouth, and wouldn’t have asked Stiles for it if he hadn't offered. Stiles again noticed his hesitance. “I trust you.”   
  
Derek bit his lip and scooted forward on his knees, Stiles using his hands to guide him close. Stiles flicked his tongue over the head of Derek’s cock where a drip of precome had collected. He took Derek’s hands in his own and guided them behind his head, Derek’s fingers gripping gently, scared to hurt Stiles.   
  
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Stiles said, almost reading his mind. Reading the nerve clear in his face. “I have just about zero gag reflex,” he confided, a sly grin on his face. It was what he referred to as one of his “many talents.” Stiles could be a little awkward in bed, but it was generally pretty fucking worth it for the other party. Derek gulped, his cock jumping a little against Stiles’ lips.   
  
Stiles took in just the tip of it, his tongue doing more work than his lips. He tried to take more in, but it was a little bit of an awkward angle, and he didn’t have Derek’s neck muscles of steel. He pulled off. “You’re gonna have to help me a out a little more than you are. C’mon.” He covered Derek’s hands with his own, telling him what to do.   
  
Derek went slow, thrusting his hips only slightly, pulling Stiles’ head toward him. Stiles was a visual dude, and did his best to make this look as filthy as possible, letting Derek’s dick willingly slip from his lips, running his tongue up and down it, keeping his eyes on Derek’s the entire time. He could feel Derek’s hands shaking where they were holding onto him, and it made Stiles’ dick twitch knowing that Derek was so turned on.   
  
Stiles got his lips back around Derek and he finally started getting a little more enthusiastic about it, thrusting long, slow and deep, gripping the back of Stiles’ head like it would fall away otherwise. Stiles hummed around his length, and Derek’s thrusts started to come a little quicker. Stiles let his hands slip up to Derek’s ass, encouraging his movements. Stiles watched as Derek’s abs tightened, his dick hardened even more, and he was completely prepared to feel Derek jerk into his mouth one last time, his orgasm pulsing warm down his throat.  
  
Derek stayed over him for a moment, then he pulled out slowly, breathing hard but not letting go of Stiles’ head. His chest was heaving, and he was trembling harder than before.   
  
“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles said, licking his lips in a way he knew looked a little obscene. He was in this for the visuals. He was fine with that. Derek slid back down Stiles’ body and buried his face in Stiles’ neck.   
  
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, trying to press himself as close to Stiles as possible.   
  
Stiles felt incredible, the kind of cloud nine happy that he hadn’t felt in years. Certainly not since he left Beacon Hills for college.   
  
“Hurt me? God, no. Your dick is amazing. You are amazing,” Stiles said, knowing that his words sounded sappy. He let their breathing even out together, calming down in pace with each other. He was used to the way it felt to have Derek curled around him. It was his favorite thing in the world. But having a sated, relaxed Derek breathe sticky hot air over his collarbone made his stomach twist in a way that he wasn’t prepared for. His chest felt tight in a way that was frightening and comfortable.   
  
“Stiles, I can’t believe you let me - that you wanted me to-”  
  
“You are so much more than I expected,” Stiles said, trying to articulate. Talking about feelings was hard. Talking about sex was hard. This was a challenge. Saying 'I love you' seemed like too big of a step, but also just...not enough.   
  
Derek pressed himself up on his forearms so he could look at Stiles. His face was still flushed, creamy skin dotted with moles that Derek had already done a pretty good job of memorizing. His next project was the rest of Stiles’ body. His forehead was covered in cooling perspiration, but his eyes were even, just as intense as Derek’s. They were done talking - they were both feeling the same powerful thing.   
  
Derek kissed him again and pulled them close together to sleep. Neither had nightmares.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've never been to UC Davis, but it looks like they have both an awesome anthro program, and an intense special collections section. So sleep well tonight knowing both of those facts. 
> 
> [Come visit me on tumblr.](http://hannahisawolf.tumblr.com) I'm pretty great at reblogging crap.


End file.
